If I had loved you less
by LovelyLadyGrey
Summary: A kiss in the heat of the moment changes the course set out for the couple as Elizabeth and Darcy are forced make an effort to be more open with each other. What will happen as they try to get to know each other properly?
1. Chapter 1

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"If I had loved you less...

I might be able to talk about it more."

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 **Chapter 1**

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* * *

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"How long do you intend to stay in Kent, Colonel?"

Elizabeth had struggled to pay attention to her cousin's mumbled sermon long enough and started up a whispered conversation with her much more agreeable companion, Colonel Fitzwilliam. She was counting on Mr Collins to have an equally dulling effect on the other churchgoers surrounding them, thus providing them with some modicum of privacy.

"As long as Darcy chooses. I am at his disposal," was his quiet reply.

"Everyone appears to be at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry and secure a lasting convenience of that kind." She chuckled quietly and allowed herself a quick glance at the gentleman in question on the other side of the aisle.

"She would be a lucky woman."

"Really?" She must have sounded incredulous, for the Colonel went on to explain.

"Darcy is a most loyal companion. From what I heard on our journey here, he recently came to the rescue of one of his friends," he said with evident pride in his cousin's conduct.

"What happened?" The conversation was quickly becoming far more engaging than anything Mr Collins could possibly have to say from the pulpit.

"He saved the man from an imprudent marriage."

"Who was the man?!" Elizabeth's heart gave a painful squeeze in her chest.

"His closest friend, Charles Bingley."

"Did Mr Darcy give a reason for this interference?" She struggled to conceal the pain from her voice. Fitzwilliam answered, apparently blind to the devastating effect of his words.

"There were apparently strong objections to the lady."

"What kind of objections? Her lack of fortune?" Oh, how she hoped it was something as simple as that.

"I think it was her family that was considered unsuitable."

"So he separated them." She surreptitiously squeezed her eyes shut to keep them from watering.

"I believe so. I know nothing else," he stated simply.

She stared incredulously across the aisle at Mr Darcy, heedless of all discretion and propriety, until he became aware of her scrutiny and turned his gaze towards her. Startled she looked away and stared intently at her tightly folded hands in her lap.

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* * *

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Elizabeth focused on her breathing. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep calming breath. Shutting out the odious sermon of her nervous cousin, she counted the minutes until it would be over and she could make her escape.

Finally, the torture was at an end and she was allowed to stand along with everyone else and escape into the open air. She felt an immense sense of relief at no longer being enclosed within the four walls of the church while bursting at the seams with emotional turmoil. She forced herself to smile politely at Colonel Fitzwilliam before seeking out Charlotte and Maria.

"There you are. How did you like today's sermon?" Charlotte asked, more out of a sense of propriety than any expectation of Elizabeth having something positive to say about her husband's sermon.

"I think it was even better than last week's." She smiled noncommittally. "I think I might go for a walk, before heading home," she said quickly before anyone might ask her more about the sermon she hadn't heard a word of.

Charlotte looked surprised and a bit concerned. "Are you sure? It looks like it might rain soon."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. I won't be long," she said hurriedly.

Lady Catherine, Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam were standing close by talking to Mr Collins. She was certain he couldn't hold their interest very long and soon she would be required to join them – maybe even be forced to accept an invitation to tea at Rosings.

She discreetly slipped into an opening in the hedge and escaped into the copse of trees behind the church. She needed to be away from prying eyes and she desperately needed to be far away from _him_. Walking through the park, nearly at a run, she heedlessly headed straight towards the storm clouds.

Her mind was reeling and she was astounded at how disappointed she was in Mr Darcy. She hadn't held him in very high regard before his cousin's revelation and was therefore surprised to react in such a way.

After mulling it over for about a quarter of a mile, she supposed that no matter how little she thought of him for his treatment of poor Mr Wickham, she had at least considered him to be better than Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. Whether or not Mr Darcy considered her sister to be a suitable match, she had still assumed that he would respect and protect the happiness of his dearest friend. It would seem she had been mistaken – other concerns apparently weighed heavier on that gentleman's mind than something as simple as marital felicity.

The weather seemed to commiserate with her foul mood and the heavens opened over her in a great downpour of heavy summer rain. Wearing nothing more substantial than a summer dress and a linen coat she picked up her skirts and ran to the nearest shelter she could find. The mausoleum would do just fine – its columns and roof would provide ample shelter and no one could possibly have any business there on a day such as this one.

As she finally reached her haven, she leaned heavily against the marble wall and tried to catch her breath. Having to consider someone other than Caroline Bingley to be at fault for her sister's current, and persistent, unhappiness brought all her bitter feelings and anger back to the forefront. Her reaction to the separation had lessened over time, but now she was as angry at the interference as ever. At least her anger would help keep her warm as she waited out the rain.

Before her heart could return to its normal rhythm, she thought she heard footsteps through the patter of raindrops on the floor and the leaves in the trees surrounding the mausoleum. She had just decided it was all in her imagination when none other than Mr Darcy himself stepped around the curved wall.

He looked at her uncertainly for a moment, but she was too surprised to even so much as greet him.

"Miss Elizabeth... I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you... I had to see you." His last sentence was little more than a whisper before he seemingly gathered his courage once more.

"I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony."

"I don't understand..."

"I love you. Most ardently! Please do me the honour of accepting my hand."

She was at a complete loss for words and stared at him in unmasked confusion and surprise for a few moments before gathering her wits about her.

"Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through, and I am very sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done."

"Is this your reply?" His surprise almost seemed to equal hers.

"Yes, sir."

"Are you... are you laughing at me?"

"No."

"Are you _rejecting_ me?"

"I'm sure that the feelings which, as you've told me have hindered your regard, will help you in overcoming it." Anger was simmering in her chest once more as the impact of his words were allowed time to sink in.

"Might I ask why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus repulsed?"

"And I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your better judgment! If I was uncivil then that is some excuse. But I have other reasons, you know I have!"

"What reasons?"

"Did you think that anything might tempt me to accept the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?!" She sounded incredulous and was, in some small way, pleased to be granted the opportunity to confront him about his interference.

"Do you deny it, Mr Darcy? That you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to the censure of the world for caprice and my sister to its derision for disappointed hopes. And involving them both in misery of the acutest kind!"

"I do not deny it," he answered simply.

"How could you do it?"

"Because I believed your sister to be indifferent to him."

" _Indifferent?!_ " The nerve of him to presume to know her sister so well after such a fleeting acquaintance!

"I watched them most carefully and realized his attachment was deeper than hers."

"That's because she's shy!" She could not believe that his careful inspection had not revealed this most prominent of her sister's traits.

"Bingley too is modest and was persuaded she didn't feel strongly him," he answered hurriedly.

"Because you suggested it!"

"I did it for his own good!"

"My sister hardly shows her true feelings to _me_!" She felt like screaming at him and very nearly did. She took a deep, calming breath and forced herself to continue in a quieter tone. "I suppose that you suspected his fortune had some bearing on the matter."

"No. I wouldn't do your sister the dishonour! Although it was suggested..."

"What was?"

"It was made perfectly clear that an advantageous marriage..."

"Did my sister give that impression?!" They were shouting now, their chests heaving and cheeks colouring despite the fact that they were both soaked through.

"No! No. There was, however, the matter with your family..."

"Our want of connection?! Mr Bingley didn't seem to vex himself about that!"

"It was more than that."

"How, Sir?" she asked through tightly clenched teeth.

"It was the lack of propriety, shown by your mother, your three younger sisters, even, on occasion, your father!" The air escaped him at this and he seemed to visibly deflate. He turned his gaze to the flagstones for a moment before squeezing his eyes shut.

"Forgive me. You and your sister I must exclude from this." His voice was sweet and remorseful, and his eyes lingered on her with a tenderness that was at odds with the anger that ruled him moments ago. She, however, was not finished.

"And what about Mr Wickham?" she asked him, archly.

"Mr Wickham?" Mr Darcy started at this and took several steps towards her, apparently needing to read her more carefully, if that gentleman was to be the topic of conversation.

"What excuse can you give for your, your _behaviour_ towards him?"

"You take an eager interest in that gentleman's affairs." His tone was laced with jealousy and something almost dangerous seemed to simmer beneath the surface.

She refused to back down and stared stubbornly back at him. "He told me of his misfortunes."

"Oh, yes. His misfortunes have been very great indeed."

"You ruin his chances and yet you treat him with sarcasm."

"So this is your opinion of me." His voice was hardly more than a whisper before his anger took control of him once more and something in him seemed to snap.

"Thank you for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offences might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honesty..."

" _My_ pride?!"

"...in admitting scruples about our relationship. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?"

"And those are the words of a gentleman. From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry!"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth before she started to regret her candour. Their faces were mere inches apart by now and she could feel his breath gently caress her face as she raved at him in fury. He looked rather hurt and she felt certain she had gone too far. No gentleman deserved to be thus spoken to.

Her righteous anger left her and she became aware of her close proximity to the man she had just scolded most severely. She felt her heart pound and found she couldn't look away from his intense gaze. As she noticed his eyes flicker from hers down to her mouth for a short second, she stumbled towards him ever so slightly. This tiny movement proved to be sufficient to overcome his sense of propriety; in an instant, his lips claimed hers in a heated kiss.

Sensations, unlike anything she had experienced, washed over her. Her heart pounded in her ears and she held onto him tightly as she was overcome by a fierce heat radiating through her body.

He seemed to be equally affected as he growled and pulled her firmly against his chest. Feeling his arms envelop her, she couldn't help but let out a soft whimper before allowing her fingers to creep up into his wet locks holding him in place.

Their lips battled fiercely against each other until they both needed to come up for air. They stood frozen in their embrace for a few seconds until Darcy seemed to come to his senses. He drew a steadying breath before releasing her and taking a step back.

He couldn't seem to look her in the eye as he said; "Forgive me, madam, for taking up so much of your time."

He turned and briskly walked away while she stood rooted in place, still out of breath. Her emotions seemed to be in complete overload, as she could feel none of the emotional upheaval that had been coursing through her such a short while ago. All she could feel was her heart pounding in her chest, a foreign tingling in her lips, utterly bewildered, and a surprising sense of bereavement as she watched him walk away from her.

"Mr Darcy!" she called after him.

He stopped and faced her, with surprise plainly written across his features.

"I hope you will not think me impertinent, but I think perhaps it is time you and I talked, properly. Unless, of course, you are expected back at Rosings."

"Indeed..." He considered her proposal for a moment before replying. "I am at your disposal, Miss Elizabeth."

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* * *

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They walked around to the most sheltered side of the mausoleum and sat down against the wall, silently agreeing to disregard propriety for a little while longer.

"It seems we have a history of misunderstanding and insulting each other that spans the length of our acquaintance, Mr Darcy. I am, as you know, very fond of studying people's characters, yet I find that I have still made no progress in making you out." She did her best to sound neutral and open to whatever he chose to say in reply.

He surprised her with a light chuckle but kept his gaze lowered to the floor in front of his feet. "That is hardly surprising. The man, I hesitate to call him a gentleman, with which you have been acquainted, bears little resemblance to the gentleman my friends and family know. I can imagine your own observations to be conflicting with how they describe me."

She was pleased that he seemed committed to complying with her request for an honest and open conversation. She was pleasantly surprised with his uncharacteristic candour.

"And, if I may be so bold, why is that?" As his gaze was averted she felt courageous enough to not avert her own in silent admiration at the effort he was making to give her answers she wasn't owed.

"I expect the first thing you learned of me, besides my name, was my income and the size of my estate. It is, after all, the norm whenever I am introduced somewhere new. The rest of the time, this information unfailingly precedes me. As you can imagine, this has a rather predictable effect on the mercenary mamas of unmarried ladies." His sounded rather bitter.

"I am forced to admit that it has made me rather taciturn. I have been told I often come off as being proud and above the rest of my company whenever I am not amongst those who have proved themselves to regard me for something other than my large income."

She almost didn't say anything, but the question left her lips before she knew what she was doing, though her voice belied her uncertainty. "Which category have you decided I belong in?"

At this, he looked up and met her gaze. "Your refusal today certainly proves that you either truly don't care about my money or that you hate me enough to risk an uncertain future regardless of any mercenary tendencies. Though I have been certain that you have no such tendencies for some time now, I admit I have been remiss in treating you accordingly."

She was pleased with his answer and regained some of her wit. "In this, we are in agreement, Mr Darcy. Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony, which is why I will end up an old maid. Though I hesitate to compare you to that gentleman, you should know that the prospect of being allowed to be the lady of my childhood home was not enough to tempt me to accept Mr Collins' proposal either."

His disappointment was too fresh for him to find any humour in this sentiment, instead, he was silent and looked down at his feet once more. After mulling it over for a second, he could not help himself and looked up at her in astonishment.

"Mr Collins asked for your hand?" She thought she could see a hint of a smile ghosting at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh yes. He was quite persistent and, dare I say it, even less polished in his delivery than you," she teased and even dared to give him a playful nudge with her shoulder.

At the flicker of pain she could see in his eyes, she said; "Forgive me, Sir. That was unkind. You are incapable of doing anything to justify being likened to Mr Collins."

"Well, that's something I suppose." His quiet chuckle caught her unawares.

"As we can agree that you are not mercenary, the reasons I have just given for my behaviour, in general, does not excuse my behaviour towards you. All I can say in my defence is that you leave me rather tongue-tied and, as I have never met a woman like you, I have no previous experience to draw on."

Elizabeth could think of nothing to say and did nothing to interrupt his contemplative silence that followed this.

"Unlike Bingley, I am not amiable by nature, and so my silences must have been hard for you to interpret and indeed endure. I can only apologize if they have been a source of discomfort to you."

"Think nothing of it, Mr Darcy."

He seemed unsure whether to take this to mean that he was forgiven, or that she had not considered him worthy of enough attention to notice his silences. They were both at a loss for words for a little while and sat in a rather awkward silence until he thought to revisit the topic of Mr Wickham.

"May I ask what Wickham has told you of his dealings with me?" he asked quietly.

"He told me of how you grew up together and that your father left him a living, which you denied him when the time came for him to take orders. He seems to be under the impression that you went against your father's wishes out of jealousy because he loved Wickham as a son," she answered.

"It was always a talent of his to twist the truth to suit him in the best way possible. It is true that we grew up together, that my father loved him and that he left him a living in his will. I will even admit to a certain amount of jealousy with regards to their easy relationship."

He seemed able to see some bitter humour in the recollection.

"What he failed to include in his story was the fact that as we attended school together I became privy to a side of him that my father never knew. I saw his selfish and rogue ways in unguarded moments and knew of his tendency to leave a trail of unpaid debts and broken hearts behind wherever he went. I knew he was wholly unfit to be a clergyman, so when he came to me and said he had decided against taking the living, I compensated him the value of it. I gave him three thousand pounds and considered the matter to be closed. When he came back two years later to tell me he had reconsidered and wanted the living, after all, I refused."

If Elizabeth had any expectations of what possible excuse Mr Darcy could have for his despicable treatment of Wickham, she had certainly not expected this. Wickham had always seemed to be the epitome of amiability and decency. Now that she thought about it, he had done nothing to prove that he had a good character, merely that he had good and pleasing manners.

Darcy seemed to need a moment to steel himself and consider his next words.

"He was very angry and no longer thought it necessary to even attempt to stay in my good graces. The next time we crossed paths he had schemed his way into my sister's life and convinced her to elope with him."

Elizabeth gasped at this and stopped herself from clutching his hand just in time. Embarrassed she looked away, but Darcy was gracious enough to pretend he hadn't noticed.

"I discovered them by chance and Georgiana confessed the whole matter to me. I made it perfectly clear that no part of her 30 000 pound dowry would be made available to him. At this point, he lost interest in her and left without a word of goodbye. She was fifteen years old and has not regained her liveliness or spirit in the year that has passed since then," he finished mournfully.

"That _scoundrel!_ " she exclaimed. "I can't believe I let him fool me to such an extent regarding his character."

"Don't be too hard on yourself. He has always excelled in the art of making himself agreeable where he sees fit."

"I thank you for your kind words, but I will never again consider myself a proficient judge of character!"

They sat in silent contemplation for a little while, before Darcy broached the subject of the other accusation she had laid against him.

"Is your sister in a lot of pain because of my actions?"

"She tries to hide it and steers any and all conversations away from even the briefest mention of Bingley's name. She has trouble sleeping and her appetite still has not returned fully. Even Mama's reproaches that she will never catch a man if she lets herself waste away are not enough to make her eat properly."

She was surprised to see him so remorseful as she replied. If she had expected anything, she had expected cold justifications and half-hearted excuses.

"You must know... surely, you must know I would never knowingly put your sister through the pain I have so closely witnessed my own sister go through. You cannot think me so unfeeling and heartless," he implored her.

"When I heard of your involvement in the matter from your cousin, I will admit that I believed you capable of it. I sometimes fail to acknowledge that my sister may appear different to those who do not know and love her as I do. Where I see a fragile and shy heart others may see a reserved and calculating character."

She paused for a second before continuing.

"Though I hesitate to remind you of my mother's impropriety, I will ask if you remember our conversation at the assembly. Mama told you of the gentleman that wrote Jane those pretty sonnets."

"Yes, I do recall your comments on the subject." His eyes seemed to contain a mixture of laughter and remorse at the memory.

"As Mama told you, Jane was but fifteen when she was first abandoned by a gentleman who had shown her affection. She was more affected by this than either of us let on to Mama. Though Jane is too good to think ill of anybody, she has learned that men can be fickle creatures and guards her heart more closely now. Ever since Jane was little, Mama has been convinced that it is Jane who will save us from starving in the hedgerows when Papa dies. I am sure you can imagine Mama to be even more outspoken on this subject at home than she is at public assemblies. It has been a burden for Jane to bear for many years already."

Darcy could say nothing to refute her claim, having seen such behaviour first-hand many times before.

"Your friend was so charming and seemed so persistent in his affection that she allowed herself to feel something for him. However, allowing herself to feel affection does not mean that she is capable of showing it to the entire neighbourhood. Can you imagine how Mama would react if Jane were to display her feelings on the matter?"

After a moment she blushed and said; "Actually, I'd rather you didn't think too closely on the matter."

He laughed lightly.

"I agree that some things are better left alone. I cannot tell you how sorry I am to give your sister further proof that men are not to be trusted with her affectionate heart. Though I have to say that she is right to be cautious – not all men care about the impact of their actions and the expectations they may give rise to."

He ached to take her hand as he went on.

"I hesitate to speak ill of my dearest and closest friend, but I feel compelled to tell you that Bingley has, on occasion, been careless in that regard. He has an open heart that easily falls in love and a mind that is just as easily distracted. You heard him at Netherfield; he said it himself; he can decide at a moment's notice to pack his things and leave for London only to forget any attachments he had formed earlier."

Darcy watched as Elizabeth's expression grew closed and bitter. She was resolved to not speak against his friend and sat in silence, expecting him to have more to say on the subject.

"However, I must say I have never seen him so taken with any woman as he was with your sister. I suspect his sisters noticed it too and saw fit to separate them. They would not normally go to such extremes as he does not tend to attach himself too closely, but it was plain for all to see where their relationship was headed if Bingley had his way."

This did not seem to make matters much better as Elizabeth heard it confirmed from his own lips that her sister would most likely have been married now, had it not been for his interference.

"He is a tender-hearted soul and it has been his custom to come to me for guidance and advice. I know you will not consider it an attractive quality in a man to be so little self-assured, but please remember that he is several years my junior. I can only say that I was trying to spare him from a broken heart."

"I have trouble understanding you. You agree that Jane is not mercenary, yet you believe her capable of inflicting pain on your friend. Why would she attach herself to him if she felt so little for him as you seemed to believe?"

"It did not seem an unreasonable assumption that she was under a certain amount of pressure from her mother to make an advantageous match," he mumbled.

"Alright, Mr Darcy. I will forgive you for your misunderstanding of the situation. I cannot absolve you of the part you have played in my sister's pain. I will admit, however, that you are not the only one at fault and one could argue that the blame lies with Bingley, who had not the confidence to believe his own perception of my sister's regard for him."

"Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. That is more than I have a right to ask," he replied softly.

She looked at him and was in some danger of losing herself in the depth of his gaze. Looking away she noticed that it had stopped raining and a little reluctantly went to stand up.

He was on his feet in an instant and offered his hand to help her up. As she placed her hands in his, she felt a tingle creeping over her skin where they touched. He was seemingly unaffected and helped her to stand. She was more than a little stiff after sitting so long on the cold ground in wet clothes and he held onto her for a little while to make sure she was steady.

His thumb caressed her knuckles discreetly – had she not been so acutely aware of him she might have missed it. As it was, the tiny movement was enough to send a shiver up her spine as she allowed herself to look him in the eye.

"Oh, you must be freezing! Forgive me for keeping you out in this dreadful weather. I do hope you will not catch a cold because of my inconsiderate actions."

"I find I do not think a cold to be much of a price to pay when there is so much satisfaction to be had for my curiosity."

He smiled down at her, and it felt like having the sun on her face. She couldn't help but smile back. When she started shivering again, from the cold this time, he impulsively drew her into his arms again to keep her warm. Her heart pounded in her chest, and, from where her ear rested on his chest, she could his heart fluttering in much the same manner.

She allowed herself to put her arms around him and snuggled closer. In response, he started rubbing his hands over her arms and back to keep her as warm as possible. He would have offered her his coat, but as it was soaked through it would do little to warm her.

After a few minutes, he dropped a tender kiss on the top of her head and reluctantly stepped back.

"May I see you back to the village?" he asked.

"That is very kind of you, Mr Darcy, but surely you are as soaked as I am. Escorting me would take you in the opposite direction of a hot bath and dry clothes. I could not ask it of you."

"You need not ask, as I am offering."

She was staggered by his willingness to forego comforts for himself to be of assistance to her after everything that had transpired. She whispered; "How could any woman think you selfish and unfeeling? Can you ever forgive me for my horrid words?"

She barely had time to register the look of shock in his eyes before he stepped closer and tilted up her chin to kiss her again.

This, her second kiss, was everything her first should have been. It was tender and heart-wrenchingly sweet as his lips ghosted across hers. She couldn't help but whimper and pull him closer.

Passion quickly overtook them and suddenly she was pinned against the wall with his body tightly pressed against hers as their hands caressed anything within reach. She moaned as his hand caressed her breast and he kissed his way down her throat to reach her collarbones and her porcelain chest. Heat, unlike anything she had previously experienced, enveloped her body and seemed to permeate her very soul.

As his hands started to fumble with the fastenings of her dress, he seemed to recollect himself and released her with a shocked gasp. Neither of them could understand how quickly they vacillated between extremes. They looked at each other for a moment in stunned silence. He wore an anguished expression that made her heart twist painfully.

Once he had regained control of himself, he leaned in closer and whispered; "I will leave you in peace. Goodbye, Miss Elizabeth."

And with a light, but tender kiss on her forehead, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

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"If I had loved you less...

I might be able to talk about it more."

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 **Chapter 2**

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* * *

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Elizabeth hurried back to the parsonage, realizing that she had been away much longer than expected. She would have to use the rain as an explanation for her prolonged absence. Her soaked clothing should ensure that no one questioned her too closely.

By the time she reached the door, she was shivering quite violently. Charlotte, bless her heart, was too concerned with her friend's well-being to trouble her with questions of why she had been gone so long.

As she sank into the tub of warm water that Charlotte had thoughtfully had prepared, she closed her eyes and marvelled at the astonishing turn of events on what had looked to be a perfectly normal Sunday.

She was still utterly astonished to find that Mr Darcy harboured tender feelings towards her. It seemed that she had completely misinterpreted all his seemingly judgemental stares. Those piercing eyes that made her insides clench had apparently sought her out because he couldn't help himself!

To think that such a man as he could forget all sense of duty to his family and seek to tie himself to her admittedly ridiculous family. It was too ludicrous to fathom and she knew that she would keep the entire affair to herself.

That kiss though... That had been the stuff of fairytales, of the kind that proper ladies are not supposed to read. The memory of it alone was enough to make her lips tingle in sweet remembrance of his touch.

She sank a little further under the fragrant and soothing bath water and tried to think rationally instead of letting her feelings overcome her again.

Her heart felt strangely conflicted. Just hours before she had loathed the man that had insulted her from the moment they met. The man who had separated her sister from her beloved. The man who she thought had deprived Wickham of the good life he deserved. How ignorant she had been!

She had believed Wickham's lies and she had never thought to examine her own reaction to the man she had loathed more than any other. Now that she thought about it, she had always had uncharacteristically strong feelings when it came to Mr Darcy. Perhaps it should come as no surprise that his kisses made her feel just as intensely.

Her face flushed red as she remembered how she had clung to him, clasping the lapels of his coat. Her impulsive reaction to his kiss was not to slap him like he deserved for taking such liberties – instead she had received his attentions with equal ferocity and ardour.

What must he think of her now? She had harshly refused his proposal only to cling to him like he provided the very air she needed to live, mere minutes later.

Anger coursed through her for a moment as she recollected his ungracious proposal, though it couldn't entirely quell her intense sense of shame. A frustrated groan escaped her and she ducked her head completely under water in an attempt to escape her mortification.

When her air ran out she resurfaced reluctantly and gingerly stepped out of the tub. She would have to dress for supper soon, though she didn't have it in her to care that her hair would still be wet. Archly she decided that she didn't care what Mr Collins might have to say about it. She had, after all, dealt with far worse already.

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* * *

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In an opulent and overdecorated room at Rosings, Darcy sat in front of the fire nursing a large glass of brandy. He was, if possible, even more absorbed in today's events than Elizabeth. He had excused himself from supper, claiming to suffer from a headache.

He was certainly not fit for company, with his reeling head and his bleeding heart. He pondered her words and reactions. How little he seemed to know the woman who had claimed his heart. It was disturbing to realize that she was almost a stranger, and yet he was certain that he could love no other.

He was acutely agitated as he vacillated between remembrances of her refusal and her passionate kisses. Surely no man had ever been so soundly rejected only to be so thoroughly kissed in one afternoon!

He took a long, steadying sip from the glass in his hand and stared into the flames. Forcing himself to concentrate on her words and not her actions, he considered how her revelation might affect Bingley.

He should write him and put the matter to rights, tomorrow at the latest. He would have promptly ridden to London to tell him in person had it not meant leaving Elizabeth behind. As it was, he was not sure he could bear to leave her without seeing her one more time. Who knew if they would ever meet again?

Had he not vowed to never interfere in matters of the heart again, he might have lobbied for his friend to pursue Miss Bennet if for no other reason than to ensure that he would have reason to see Elizabeth again.

Trying to anticipate what Bingley's reaction might be to the news, he grimaced. He risked losing his friendship forever, especially if Miss Bennet had moved on or found Bingley's actions unforgivable. There was little he could do to fix it, but he would do what he could, of that there could be no question.

Deciding that he couldn't bear to have his friend read of his betrayal in a letter with no opportunity to gauge his reaction and speak to him as needed, he instead wrote him to say that he would visit him in Town before the end of the week.

Feeling his stomach clench in nervous anticipation of the potential fallout, he searched for something else to focus on. That scoundrel George Wickham should serve as a sufficient distraction.

To think Wickham had slandered him to Meryton in general and Elizabeth in particular! What could he stand to gain from such a scheme? That he was interested in Elizabeth was not in question. To Darcy that was a certainty. After all, who could not want such a lovely creature for himself?

But what did Wickham stand to gain by spending his time with her on lying about him? Had he seen the regard and affection Darcy felt for her? Did he seek to separate them to have her to himself or did he specifically want to injure Darcy? If the latter, then there could be no question that Elizabeth was in danger of being targeted by Wickham as a means to extract revenge on him for whatever perceived wrong he used to justify his ongoing vendetta.

He would have to do something. As much as he had hesitated to expose his own affairs in order to bring Wickham to justice, it was time to put such concerns aside. Elizabeth's well-being and safety would always be more important. Even if she could never love him, he would always protect her in whatever way she would allow.

Her angry refusal still smarted and he felt more than a little heart-broken, but her open disposition at the end of their conversation and passionate kisses had done wonders to ease his pain.

While he had only deceived himself that he knew her before, and found she was still very much a mystery, everything he had learned of her character today only endeared her to him even more. She was everything a man could dream of in a wife. She was intelligent, kind-hearted, loyal and compassionate. And that passion of hers that they had discovered together! It was enough to set his skin on fire! And he had no idea what her feelings toward him were anymore-

He groaned at the memory and drained his glass in one gulp.

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* * *

.

The next morning Elizabeth awoke to a bright new day. The sun was peeking through the light curtains and tried to entice her to come outside for one of her morning rambles. Instead of jumping out of bed like she normally would, she pulled the blankets up higher and debated on the likelihood of running into Mr Darcy. Did she want to see him again? She was conflicted and her emotions too muddled together to make any sense of.

In the end, she decided against going for a walk and joined the others for breakfast instead. Mr Collins had already been on his daily excursion it seemed, as he regaled them with what little news could be had from Rosings after such a short separation.

"Lady Catherine was most gracious to invite us to dine with them next week after her nephews have returned to London," Mr Collins said, fairly glowing at the dubious honour of being invited only when no other company could be found.

Not even his dear wife could be bothered to give a reply to this rather common occurrence. Unaffected by the lack of response, he continued; "Apparently Mr Darcy is feeling a little under the weather and should not be expected to make calls to any of his dear friends in the neighbourhood."

Elizabeth could well believe it, though she doubted he had any other acquaintances in the area and felt certain the message was intended for herself. She refused to admit to feeling disappointed that she would not see him before she left for home and tried her best not to feel jilted.

However, if Mr Darcy had caught the cold she had been lucky enough to escape after being out in the rain yesterday, she would at least be free to ramble about the countryside without the risk, or potential benefit, of running into him.

As Mr Collins started to elaborate on the superior quality of potatoes they could expect to enjoy on their next visit to Rosings, Elizabeth hurriedly finished what little food she had put on her plate and went to fetch her shawl and a book. She fully intended to escape the dreadful company of her cousin for as long as possible. Even Charlotte's company would not be enough to make up for such a strain after the events of yesterday.

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* * *

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She walked at a leisurely pace, basking in the pleasant sunlight. She knew her mother would scold her for the freckles she was sure to have when she returned to Longbourn, but the sun felt so wonderful against her skin that she found she didn't care.

Finding a nice oak tree with a lovely view of the waterlilies in the pond, she sat down with her book and leaned against its solid trunk. Looking around instinctively to check that she was truly alone, she toed her slippers off and buried her toes in the silky grass. It was such a warm day that she had left her stockings at home.

For the first time since her talk with Colonel Fitzwilliam, she was finally able to relax and draw a full breath. The dappled sunlight winding its way through the vibrant green leaves of the canopy above and the cheerful chorus of birdsong lifted her spirits like nothing other than her sister Jane seemed to.

She read for about an hour while the sun climbed higher in the sky. As the temperature rose, the pond was quickly becoming irresistibly tempting.

Still certain that no one would happen upon her, she left her book and her shawl under the great oak and walked over to a decent sized rock at the edge of the pond. Lifting her skirts, she sat down and let her feet drop into the cool, clear water.

She sat there admiring the waterlilies and gently moving her feet back and forth in the water until she noticed the sound of galloping horses. Before she had time to decide what to do, she heard Colonel Fitzwilliam calling out.

"Miss Elizabeth!" he cried.

She half turned, but kept her feet submerged where they would remain mostly hidden from the gentleman's view. She saw him eagerly dismounting his horse while Mr Darcy hesitated before doing the same.

"Colonel! Mr Darcy! I heard you were unwell, Sir. I hope you are feeling better."

He looked startled and bowed in greeting. "Miss Elizabeth, I assure you I am doing much better." He looked her meaningfully in the eye and said; "Are you well? I heard you were caught out in the rain yesterday, I worried you might catch a cold."

Fitzwilliam looked on with obvious interest as he heard more heartfelt sentiment in his cousin's voice than he had ever heard directed at anyone but his sister. Darcy had not confided in him where he went after church yesterday only to return with a stormy expression on his face, but this behaviour was decidedly out of character.

"I thank you, but I seem to have escaped the incident mostly unscathed," she assured him feeling self-conscious both at the recollection of their last conversation and her current predicament. She felt like she should get up, but doing so would mean showing them her bare feet. Darcy made the decision for her.

"Might I be of assistance, madam?" he asked without the slightest hint of reprobation.

He walked over and shielded her from view from his cousin, holding out his hand to help her up. With his aid, she was able to stand up while holding onto her skirts, giving him only the briefest glimpse of her bare feet and ankles before lowering the fabric to the ground. She smiled up at him gratefully and felt him give her hand a light squeeze before letting go.

"And where are you two off to on this fine day? I would have thought it almost too hot to ride anywhere," she said as they walked over to Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"I had some business with my aunt's steward and we thought it best to allow the horses a drink before heading back to Rosings," was Darcy's reply.

"And how are you holding up in this heat, Miss Elizabeth?" Fitzwilliam asked genially.

"I find it more than bearable as it is such a lovely day. My mother won't praise me for my freckles, but at least she won't hear about how I allowed the pond to entice me into impropriety." She raised a challenging eyebrow that had both gentlemen laughing and assuring her that they would reveal her secret to no one.

"I hear you're headed to Town. I hope the heat won't make it too dreadful."

"London is almost always unbearable in the summer, but while Fitzwilliam will likely stay on a while, I only plan on staying a week to complete some business before heading back to the country," Darcy replied.

He looked rather stiff as he talked about his business, and she wondered what could affect him so.

The Colonel was surprised to see his cousin silently hand him the reigns for him to water his horse. He decided he would wait to question him till later and walked the horses over to the pond allowing them the relative privacy Darcy obviously craved.

"Though I hesitate to raise your hopes in vain, I feel I should tell you that I intend to call on Bingley while I am in Town. I will do what little I can to set things right between him and your sister. The rest, however, must always be up to them. I cannot make any guarantees that my mistake can be undone."

"Thank you for letting me know. I will remain silent on the subject until we hear from your friend should he wish to renew his acquaintance with my sister."

Sensing his trepidation at the prospect of talking to Bingley of his deception, she said; "I appreciate the risk you are willing to take of damaging your own relationship with Mr Bingley in order to repair that of my sister."

"It was my mistake and I must own up to it," he stated simply, though there could be nothing simple about it.

Awed at his bravery, she attempted some of her own though she couldn't manage to speak with the same conviction as she said; "Should you be so unfortunate as to lose that friend, you will always find one in me should you wish it."

A hesitant smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, but words escaped him and they were left in an awkward silence that lasted several minutes. Though they were both inclined to break the silence, neither could think of a safe subject with which to do so.

Finally, they were rescued by his cousin who called over to say that he was ready to head back for a glass of something cold to drink for himself.

As Darcy turned to leave, still looking uncharacteristically subdued, she daringly grasped his wrist and held him back.

"I beg you, please don't heed my words of yesterday too closely. They were born out of anger and in many ways completely unjustified," she implored him quietly.

She thought she could see a flash of pain in his eyes as she failed to absolve him completely.

"I harbour no ill feeling towards you, Miss Elizabeth. If you find me any less inclined towards conversation than yesterday, please know that it does not stem from an inclination to avoid your company."

She could not fully understand his meaning and looked at him with obvious confusion.

"I find I am rather overcome with emotion around you. You leave me tongue-tied and awkward. Through no fault of your own, of course," he whispered boldly.

He would have kissed her hand in farewell, but dared not with his teasing cousin looking on, instead he mounted his horse and they both bade their farewells from the saddle.

She stood in the shadow of the oak tree watching them ride away from her long after they were gone from view, not knowing when or if she would ever see him again.

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* * *

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An uneventful week later she returned home to Longbourn. The house and its residents seemed completely unaltered, which Elizabeth found to be both comforting and a little unsettling after the upheaval she had experienced in Kent.

Mama was still prone to suffer from nerves, Lydia and Kitty giggled as much as ever and Mary practised diligently at the pianoforte while Papa sought refuge from the mayhem in his library. Jane, her one solace in the madness was quiet and subdued, though she tried her best to pretend that nothing was the matter.

At her intent gaze one night, Jane exclaimed "I am quite over him, Lizzy! Do not worry so. I shall be fine!"

Elizabeth remained unconvinced and took to looking around for potential gentleman callers just as much as Lydia and Kitty ever had. She told herself she was only looking for Bingley's chestnut mare; daring to hope to see Darcy's black stallion would be nothing but madness. If she happened to look a little extra closely at male riders on black horses, then that was nobody's business but her own.

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* * *

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Two weeks after she returned home, she received a letter addressed in an unknown handwriting. Upon opening it she found it to be signed by no other than Georgiana Darcy.

 _How astonishing!_ she thought. While she paid no credence to Wickham's claim that she was a proud girl who considered herself above the rest, she had no reason to expect such correspondence.

 _Miss Elizabeth,_

 _Please forgive me for taking the liberty to write you without a previous introduction. I have done so in service to my brother, who has requested my help. You will find his letter enclosed with my own._

 _I hope we may find occasion to write each other in the future. I have heard nothing but the highest praise of you. Please feel free to write me should you wish to reply to my brother's missive._

 _At your service,_

 _Georgiana Darcy_

Reading the letter, Elizabeth found herself reassured in the belief that her brother's description stating she was a lovely yet shy girl in need of gentle and steady guidance was apt. Mr Wickham claims would seem to be just another of his machinations meant to turn her against the Darcy family.

Carefully folding the letter she put it in her pocket for safe keeping. Her heart was pounding a little in anticipation of Darcy's words. She paused and took a steadying breath before perusing _his_ letter.

 _Dearest Elizabeth,_

 _I hope you are well and that you had a safe journey home from Kent. I know not whether to hope for your sister's raised spirits, lovely as that would be, for they might dash my hopes of rectifying a wrong forever._

 _I have spoken with our mutual friend. Though very angry with me, he has begged me to convey his gratitude for your candour when we last met. He is concluding his business in Town with the greatest urgency so that he might return to Hertfordshire and your sister as soon as possible._

 _It is his, and my own, most fervent hope that he is not too late. His affections and wishes have not changed. However he may be received in your home and whatever may come of it, please know that he is truly innocent of any caprice regarding your dearest sister._

 _You may expect him to arrive at Netherfield a little after midday Friday._

 _I have yet to decide whether to join him on his journey or not. I find myself wishing for the country lanes of Netherfield, but, like my friend, I cannot know how welcome I may expect to be._

 _Love,_

 _Fitzwilliam Darcy_


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN:** I apologize for the delay in posting, but writer's block struck. You know how it is, you just have to muddle through as best you can. Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews, they are quite possibly the best remedy for writer's block there is!_

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* * *

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"If I had loved you less...

I might be able to talk about it more."

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 **Chapter 3**

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* * *

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Darcy would never know how conflicted his letter made its recipient. Elizabeth hardly knew what to think of this charming man that had emerged from the reserved and cold-hearted shell that she had known as Mr Darcy.

She read the short letter again and again until she knew it by heart, hoping against hope there was some new meaning to glean from the words written there. She was utterly bewildered and held on tightly to what could very well be their last open-hearted communication.

In unguarded moments, her sisters would sometimes catch her clutching the letter close with an unreadable expression on her face. No amount of coaxing could persuade her to divulge its contents or the name of its author.

She discovered herself to be disappointed that he had not written more. She longed to hear how he was doing, what he thought of her now, whether he considered her a compromised, wanton woman that would forever be beneath him, and whether he still harboured tender feelings for her.

 _"I find myself wishing for the country lanes of Netherfield."_ Her heart gave a hopeful squeeze as she reread that lovely line over and over.

 _"I cannot know how welcome I may expect to be."_ Elizabeth hardly knew the answer to that question herself. He was certainly the most intriguing man she had ever encountered, but her feelings were still so confusing to her.

He had redeemed himself more admirably than she had ever thought possible with such charges laid against him, but how could she possibly have such a rapid change of heart that she went from something close to loathing to admiration in a few hours? She was fairly certain she hoped he would muster the courage to find out for himself how welcome he would be.

She blushed to think of just how welcome she had made him feel that Sunday weeks ago. He made her question almost everything she had thought she knew about herself. She had thoroughly misjudged him, scolded him fiercely and completely lost all sense of propriety. It scared her to think how easily he made her forget her manners and throw caution to the wind.

Though she was flattered at the recollection of Miss Darcy's gracious letter and longed to reply to both her and her brother, she found her own courage failing her and the correspondence went unanswered.

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* * *

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"Are you well, Lizzie?"

Jane interrupted her one day as she sat by the window before bed trying once again to find words that might be good enough for the Darcy siblings.

"Perfectly fine," she smiled. "Why do you ask?"

"You've been awfully quiet since you returned from Kent. Did something happen while you visited Charlotte?" Jane asked cautiously.

Elizabeth chuckled quietly. "I suppose you could say that."

After a few moments hesitation, she decided it was time to enlighten her sister as to the latest developments.

"I never wanted to keep anything from you, dearest Jane. Please know that," she implored.

Though she knew that her kind-hearted sister would never be cross with her, she still felt a certain trepidation at the prospect of causing her pain by mentioning Mr Bingley.

Jane was most intrigued and begged her to continue.

"You will remember, I'm sure, Mr Collins' reverent devotion to Lady Catherine de Bourg. So it came as no surprise that we would see the great lady quite frequently during my stay there. Indeed it seems Mr Collins can barely make it through the day without calling on her at least once. What did catch me by surprise, however, was the fact that our party would also consist of her two visiting nephews, one of which was no other than Mr Darcy. Though Mr Collins so charmingly saw fit to inform all of Meryton of his connection to Mr Darcy's aunt at the Netherfield ball, I had not considered the possibility of encountering the gentleman in Kent."

Jane was all astonishment – whatever she had expected it had certainly not been this.

"Oh yes," Elizabeth laughed. "My surprise equalled your own! Though his countenance seemed as stormy and severe as ever, he sought me out repeatedly, along with his rather more sociable cousin."

"And did your impression of the gentleman improve upon closer acquaintance?" Jane enquired.

"Not at first," she replied hesitantly. She was still not certain how to go about telling Jane of the rest. The tale of Mr Bingley's desertion and that of Mr Darcy's proposal seemed equally fraught with dangers and she couldn't decide which to tell first.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and waded in. "His cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam accompanied me at church my last Sunday in Kent. Likely in an attempt to smooth the path for his cousin, he informed me of what a loyal friend the gentleman is. He obligingly provided me with an example – of how Mr Darcy had saved his closest friend, Mr Bingley, from an imprudent marriage."

At Jane's pained gasp, she clutched her sister's hand in a hopeless attempt to provide comfort, when of course there could be no comfort to be had.

"Please continue," Jane managed to choke out.

"Mr Darcy was convinced that his friend's attachment ran deeper than yours. In light of this, he decided it best to separate the two of you and save Bingley the trouble of marrying a mercenary woman with vulgar and inferior connections."

Tears ran unchecked down Jane's rosy cheeks as she sat listening to her sister's tale.

"When I later brought my newfound knowledge before Mr Darcy, he assured me that he had watched you carefully before determining that there would be no heartbreak on your part from the separation. I _graciously_ informed him that he could hardly know your feelings better than myself and that your reserve is restricted to your outward appearances and not to your heart. You simply don't flirt and fall in love for everyone to see. It was hardly fair of him to censure our family for a lack of propriety while censuring you for not being improper enough!"

Jane gave a bitter laugh through her tears and squeezed her sister's hands gratefully.

"Dearest Jane – he conceded to my greater knowledge of your feelings and has later informed me that he has spoken with Mr Bingley. Though very angry with Mr Darcy, it seems he has not forgotten you after all. He will be here in two day's time."

"Truly?" Jane hardly dared believe her sister's words. She had longed for such tidings for so long.

"Yes, truly. Though I hesitate to criticize your Mr Bingley, I feel I must say that he ought to have more confidence in the strength of your connection. While what Mr Darcy did was reprehensible, I do not consider Bingley to be without blame in this matter."

"Nor I." Jane's voice may have been quiet, but it had a steely edge to it that made Elizabeth's stomach clench. Was it too late for the lovers to find their way back to one another after all?

"How did you find occasion to talk of such matters with Mr Darcy, Lizzy?"

To Jane's utter astonishment, this innocuous question made her sister blush rather fiercely.

"It may have come up as one of the reasons I refused his offer of marriage."

"Lizzy!"

"I know, I know. Please, I beg you; never tell Mama that I turned down a man of _ten thousand a year._ " She mimicked her mother's shrill voice quite accurately while rolling her eyes.

"Mr Darcy offered for you? Truly?" Coming from anyone else this incredulous response would have been hurtful, but sweet Jane could never step on anyone's toes even by accident.

"Oh yes, he stated that he loved me ardently and begged me to end his misery." Her playfulness abandoned her and she felt rather mournful as she confessed this.

"And you rejected him?" If the subject saddened Elizabeth so, why had she not accepted him?

"How could I possibly marry the man who might have ruined the happiness of my most beloved sister?" she asked simply.

"Mama would tell you that starving in the hedgerows would in no way help me in overcoming a broken heart," Jane teased half-heartedly.

"Which is exactly why we will not be telling her anything about it!" Elizabeth laughed.

Neither sister got much sleep that night, nor the next. With hearts aflutter and scattered minds, they breathlessly waited for a gentleman caller or two to put them out of their misery.

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* * *

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Finally, Friday arrived completely ignorant of the eager anticipation it had incited. It proved to be a lovely morning that bore promises of a lovely summer ahead.

Jane could eat nothing at breakfast and Elizabeth hardly fared better, only eating enough to avoid her mother's notice. Too drained to summon the energy for a walk, she retired to the drawing room after breakfast for an idle morning of anxious anticipation.

She had never been more relieved, or more anxious, to hear Kitty's shrieking voice announcing that there was someone coming to the door. She had time for little more than to draw a calming breath and seek Jane's gaze to see how her sister held up. Mrs Bennet's usual antics to prepare the room for company went unheeded by them both.

The ever serene Jane attempted a comforting smile that did little to ease either sister as two gentlemen were admitted to the drawing room.

"Mr Bingley! What a joy it is to see you again! We were beginning to despair of your ever returning again, Sir!" Mrs Bennet exclaimed much too loudly to the utter mortification of her two eldest daughters.

Elizabeth could not lift her eyes from the floor as she stood in greeting.

Bingley hardly seemed more prepared to deal with Mrs Bennet's effusions. "I, uh... Good afternoon, Mrs Bennet. I hope you have all been well since I saw you last?"

"Oh yes, very well indeed. My Jane looks particularly well, does she not?"

As the gentleman had scarcely dared, nor had time to, look at the lady in question, he stuttered once again before Lydia started giggling hysterically. Even the ever amiable and affable Mr Bingley seemed too mortified to find something to say after that.

Thankfully, Jane stepped in and greeted the gentlemen before her mother could gather steam and start another embarrassing tirade. As her elder sister kept the peace by asking about the health of Miss Bingley and the Hursts, Elizabeth lost her struggle to pay attention.

Her pulse pounded in her ears and her entire being seemed to focus on the quiet gentleman standing by the window. Feeling uncharacteristically timid, she kept her gaze locked on the floor. She could feel his presence affecting her every nerve making her entire being come to life.

Finally, she could take this suspense no longer. She had to speak to him to try and gauge what his feelings might be.

"Perhaps we might take a turn around the garden? It is such a fine day it would be a shame to waste it by staying indoors." Only then did she dare to look Darcy in the eye to see how her suggestion would be received.

His eyes met hers and she thought she could see a slight softening there, but any closer inspection was interrupted by her mother's shrill voice.

"Oh yes! What a splendid idea Lizzy! Jane, why don't you show Mr Bingley the shrubbery?" Upon seeing her two youngest rising with the rest of the party preparing to go for a walk, she cried; "Kitty, Lydia dear! I need you to help me upstairs."


	4. Chapter 4

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* * *

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"If I had loved you less...

I might be able to talk about it more."

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 **Chapter 4**

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* * *

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Jane and Bingley walked slowly as they took the first tentative steps to reconnect, while Elizabeth walked at a rather brisker pace next to Mr Darcy in a tense silence. Darcy's expression was cautious and told her less of his feelings than she had been used to during their last meetings in Kent. Her stomach was in knots as she struggled to find a safe subject to discuss with him.

Hardly a word was spoken beyond the occasional enquiry after the health of a mutual acquaintance before they were hidden amongst the trees surrounding Longbourn. Here Darcy's long strides shortened and slowed, and he gently led her to the trunk of a fallen tree to take a seat.

As she looked at him properly for the first time since his return, she had her suspicions confirmed; he was at least as nervous and unsure of their current standing as herself. Uncomfortable with their awkward silence she fell back on what she knew best.

"Come now, Mr Darcy. Surely there must be some topic of conversation that is interesting enough for us to embark on," she teased.

"Did ever occur to you, Miss Elizabeth that it may not have been my disinterest that has hindered our conversation?" he quipped, not unkindly.

She hardly knew how to respond. It seemed her wish for the return of the open-hearted Mr Darcy might have been granted. However much she had wished for such an occurrence, she still had little idea what to do now that he was here. She had not had the opportunity to become accustomed to their new frankness while in Kent, and their subsequent separation had allowed her unease to grow.

"You seem to be at a loss for words, Miss Elizabeth. I gather that is an uncommon occurrence?" He arched an eyebrow and a playful smile seemed to threaten to burst forth.

"Indeed. I think I can safely promise you it will not happen often," she laughed a little nervously.

After another heavy silence, he was finally ready to speak of what was on both their minds.

"I must admit that I have spent many an hour contemplating my conduct when we last met."

His gaze drifted towards the ground as he spoke, apparently too mortified to look at the woman seated in front of him.

"I think it might be best if neither of us contemplates our past dealings too carefully, Sir. I find that my conduct in Kent left much to be desired and have therefore determined not to judge you too harshly for yours. So, you see, Mr Darcy, it would be in frightfully poor taste for a gentleman such as yourself to remember my conduct in any sort of detail when I have absolved you from any remembrances of yours," she finished playfully.

Privately Darcy wished to point out that while remembering his own conduct led to nothing but self-recrimination of the acutest kind, the memory of her passionate responses was amongst his most treasured memories. Knowing it was impossible, he merely acquiesced with a gracious inclination of his head. Though he held his tongue, there was little to be done about the heat in his eyes. Elizabeth couldn't help but notice and suddenly felt a little out of breath.

They were once again in danger of falling into an awkward silence and both searched desperately for something to say until they were rescued by the approach of Jane and Mr Bingley. The radiant smile on Jane's face soothed Elizabeth's frazzled nerves and she was able to get through the rest of the visit with an appropriately sanguine countenance.

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* * *

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The next day Lydia and Kitty barged into the drawing room to announce the return of the radiant Mr Bingley to their mother and sisters. As he had visited only the previous day, the usual bustle to get the drawing room presentable for guests was slightly diminished, as his arrival was not wholly unexpected.

While her mother and four sisters hurried to put away their needlework and get Jane ready for her suitor with plenty of pinching of already rosy cheeks and smoothing of hair and skirts, Elizabeth crept over to the window to watch him approach. She was disappointed to see that he came alone.

"Mr Bingley! What a pleasure it is to see you again so soon!" Mrs Bennet exclaimed before the gentleman had even made it through the door.

"Good day, Mrs Bennet," he answered, looking a little flustered. "I trust you are all in good health."

Seeing that her mother was undoubtedly about to wax none too eloquent on Jane's _excessively_ good health and looks, Elizabeth decided to intervene. She curtsied and allowed herself to ask the question that was burning her lips while trying not to look too interested in his answer.

"Will Mr Darcy not be joining you today?

"Alas, Mr Darcy will not be able to join us for a week at least. Urgent business has called him to town and he was forced the quit the county directly after breakfast."

Her disappointment must have been apparent, despite her efforts, for he promptly started trying to cheer her up.

"He expressed to me his reluctance to depart without taking his leave of you lovely ladies but assured me that he will be returning to Netherfield as soon as can be."

"I hope it is nothing too serious," Jane interjected.

Despite his unrelenting eagerness to please Jane in any way possible, he seemed distinctly reluctant to give a reply to her enquiry. Elizabeth quietly studied his countenance and felt her stomach clench as she concluded that the business that called Mr Darcy to town was probably very serious indeed.

"I'm certain it will all work itself out. He didn't give me any of the particulars, but I have long since learned that business while often pressing is far less often dire. The matters can easily be one without also being the other."

"That is certainly a comforting way to look at it." Jane gave Bingley a complacent smile and Mr Darcy was all but forgotten by the rest of the party.

Elizabeth's sombre mood would not withstand the overall cheerfulness of the party for long. If she had considered Bingley to be of a happy disposition before, it was nothing compared to his current effervescent mood. He had barely taken a seat in the drawing room before he was on his feet again, seemingly bouncing with joy and nervous energy.

"It is such a lovely day. Would you ladies be willing to join me for a walk in the garden?"

Lydia exclaimed that officers were few and far between on the grounds and that she would much rather walk into town.

"Why don't you and Kitty go visit your Aunt Phillips? Cook has prepared some jams you can bring over to her for me," Mrs Bennet suggested.

Jane and Bingley were already out the door when Elizabeth exclaimed that she had forgotten her bonnet.

"Do not trouble yourselves to wait for me. I'll be along in a moment and catch up with you!" she called down to them as she ascended the stairs.

When she caught the heated gaze that passed between the couple at the prospect of a few moments alone, she smiled to herself and slowed her pace considerably. There was no need to run upstairs in such an undignified mad dash after all.

Five minutes passed before she finally approached the couple in the. By then it seemed everything had reached its natural conclusion. They were standing rather closer together than usual and Bingley's steadfast gaze spoke volumes of a happiness Elizabeth knew she had yet to experience for herself.

At Jane's blushing countenance, she dared to interrupt with an impertinent; "Is it finally time to wish you joy, then?"

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* * *

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Bingley had considerately agreed to dine elsewhere that evening, effectively sparing his fiancé from the mortification of having an audience to her mother's effusions.

As Jane, Lizzy and their mother stood at the window seeing them off, Mrs Bennet's joy could no longer be contained. The fact that she had been holding back her effusions at all would surely come as a surprise to anyone not closely acquainted with her, for she had certainly had plenty to say on the matter of her complete happiness while still in the company of their guest.

"Oh Jane, we are saved! We are truly saved! Oh, what joy, what relief! Such a handsome gentleman, and so rich too! Think what pin money you shall have, what fine carriages!"

"Mama, I think Mr Bingley's warm and steady affection is of rather more value to Jane than his carriages. She can, after all, only ever use one carriage at a time." Elizabeth said kindly to her mother before giving Jane's hand a loving squeeze.

When they were interrupted by the entrance of Kitty and Lydia, their mother's effusions started up again undiminished. As her youngest daughters failed to match her level of excitement she quickly moved on to start planning the wedding. Completely without consulting the happy couple, she determined it must be the finest wedding Meryton had seen in a _very_ long time.

Jane was uncharacteristically adamant that they did not want a long engagement, however, and Mrs Bennet promptly panicked at the thought of how much work must be done quickly in the coming weeks. Jane and Lizzy resolved to escape her frantic wedding planning for the rest of the afternoon by visiting their Aunt Phillips.

.

* * *

.

"Oh, Lizzy! Is it possible to die from happiness?" Jane asked as they walked gaily arm in arm.

Her face seemed to have stained permanently from a happiness induced blush, her eyes sparkled, and she seemed ready to take off at an unladylike run from all the excitement. Her joy was infectious, and Elizabeth released a bubbly laugh.

"That I cannot say, but surely there could be no one more deserving of such a demise, my darling sister."

"If only I could see you this happy! Then my joy would be truly complete," Jane exclaimed.

Lizzy's heart gave a painful squeeze as the jealousy she had been keeping tightly under wraps made itself known. The image of Mr Darcy gazing lovingly down at her with a smouldering heat simmering beneath flashed before her eyes, and she wondered not for the first time if her chance at true happiness had slipped between her fingers in a moment of reckless fury.

"Perhaps Mr Collins has a cousin!" she joked.

Soon they had reached the outskirts of Meryton and, apparently, they were not the only ones from the household that had better things to do than listen to their mother. As they rounded a corner a few streets away from their aunt's house, they encountered Lydia, unchaperoned, in the company of none other than Mr Wickham.

Elizabeth was surprised to learn that he still resided in Meryton. Rumours were starting to circulate about the gentleman's extravagant spending and inability to settle his debts. She had expected him to be the type to relocate in order to escape his unwanted obligations, financial and otherwise.

As she was forced to greet him with the appearance of polite civility, she found that his looks, while generally considered to be remarkably handsome, no longer had any effect on her. If anything, she felt she could now detect a certain coldness to his eyes and a rather cynical twist of his mouth. She was certain his smile remained much the same as it had been before, but she could now see that it was the smile of a man who aimed to please only because he had something to gain by it.

As Lydia clung possessively to his arm while Elizabeth greeted him with something bordering on cold indifference, he appeared to struggle to maintain a neutral but friendly countenance. He was, perhaps, not accustomed to females that were unaffected by his charms.

"Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth," he greeted them solemnly.

He bowed before them to the best of his ability while Lydia still held onto him. She seemed even more determined to hold onto him now that her sisters were here.

"You must wish Jane joy, Wickham. For she will not be Miss Bennet for much longer!" Lydia exclaimed, studiously avoiding Elizabeth's reproving gaze.

"Truly? What wonderful news, Miss Bennet. And who is the lucky gentleman?" he asked, clearly endeavoring to show no more than polite interest.

"I am to become Mrs Bingley, Sir." Jane was torn between the thrill of saying the words aloud for the first time and discomfort from speaking of such personal matters to someone with whom she had nothing more than a fleeting acquaintance.

Elizabeth did not like to sparkle that appeared in his eye as he congratulated her sister most warmly.

"And are you off to share your good news? With your aunt perhaps?" he asked.

"Yes, we were indeed headed that way. Lydia, you should join us. It has been too long since we all visited," Elizabeth interjected. The further away from Wickham she could bring her youngest sister, the better.

"Oh, la! I can visit her next week!" Lydia said, clutching Wickham's arm even closer than before.

"Come now, Lydia. Mama told me Aunt Phillips has been asking about you. She has finished the new shoe roses she was making for you." Jane implored as she took her younger sister's arm and gently pulled her along.

The three ladies bid Wickham farewell and set off.


	5. Chapter 5

.

* * *

.

"If I had loved you less...

I might be able to talk about it more."

.

 **Chapter 5**

.

* * *

.

The two eldest Bennet girls tried their best to get Lydia to explain how she came to be in Lieutenant Wickham's company when their mother thought she was still upstairs in her room with Kitty. Their youngest sister proved too stubborn to sway and refused to attend to their cajoling.

"Take care, Lydia. You know it will not do to be seen alone in the company of a gentleman who is not a relation. We have told you this again and again. You are too old to behave in such a way now," Elizabeth said sternly as they approached their aunt's front door.

"Oh la, Lizzy. You do go on about the silliest things!"

"It is most certainly not a silly concern, Lydia," Jane scolded gently.

Their youngest sister did not seem to hear her however, as their aunt waved through the window and she ran ahead to meet her.

Lizzy gave an exasperated sigh and looked her sister in the eye to see her frustration silently mirrored there. They had agreed for years that Lydia was too wilful to restrain, certainly for as long as their mother continued to encourage her so-called liveliness. That certainty had never been enough to stop Elizabeth's attempts to check her sister's most outrageous behaviour in pure desperation.

Jane clutched her dearest sister's hand in support and led her inside to share her happy news with their most enthusiastic aunt.

.

* * *

.

A few days later, Elizabeth was out walking almost as soon as the light permitted. She was desperate for an hour to herself. Longbourn was in chaos as Mrs Bennet let her overwhelming sense of relief, along with her rather shrill voice, permeate the entire building.

In the absence of Charlotte, Jane was her only support as her father continued to reside almost exclusively on his book room. As Mr Bingley was constantly either visiting or occupying Jane's every thought, she was understandably rather less able to concentrate than usual. That left Elizabeth with no recourse but her favourite walks as she tried to gather her thoughts and make sense of her feelings regarding Mr Darcy and his unexpected departure.

She had been walking briskly, heading in the general direction of Oakham Mount, but as her thoughts finally settled on the topic she had most longed to contemplate, her pace slowed. As the sun crested the hill and warmed her skin, she allowed her wrap to fall from her shoulders and hang limply from her elbows.

It would be a fine summer day, and she could already see that the ground was surprisingly free of morning dew. Deciding against walking all the way to Oakham Mount today, she instead settled under a favourite tree. Leaning her head gently against the solid trunk of the old, weathered oak, she listened to the trilling song of a solitary Robin. Listening to it was nearly unbearably beautiful and she was almost relieved when a gentle breeze ruffled the leaves in the canopy above her and distracted the talented songbird from his quest for a mate.

Burying her toes in the soft grass and revelling in the peace and quiet among the fragrant wildflowers, she contemplated her reaction to Mr Darcy's return to Hertfordshire and his subsequent departure to London. Her startling disappointment at not seeing him aside, she found she worried about what urgent business could have called him to town so suddenly.

Though she had on occasion been of help to her father in the management of the estate, much of gentlemen's business was a bit of a mystery to her. In general, it seemed that, even when urgent, inconvenient business matters could usually be resolved in a matter of a few days. Did Mr Darcy's absence for a full week mean that there was something seriously amiss? She sincerely hoped not.

When had she started to care so much about the welfare and prosperity of that gentleman? Their connection, for she hesitated to call it a relationship, was irrevocably altered at Hunsford, that day in the rain. What it had been before and what it had turned into on that fateful day, was less clear. She found herself undeniably intrigued by him and found her mind drifting to thoughts of him in idle moments.

Thinking of him had become something of a pastime for her. One she was deeply ashamed of and would speak of to no one. She had come to realize that he was far removed from the cold and inconsiderate man she had considered him to be upon first acquaintance.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of boots on the path. Hurrying to put her slippers on and lowering her skirts to the ground, she was startled to see that the boots belonged to Mr Wickham. She had no interest in spending time alone with that cad! It was too late to slip away unnoticed and she resigned herself to standing up to greet him civilly.

"Miss Elizabeth! You are out early."

He gave a bow that seemed specifically designed to set young female hearts aflutter; full of elegance and seemingly heartfelt sentiment. She felt certain he had succeeded many times, she was pleased to note that she was entirely unaffected however. She amused herself by wondering how much time he had spent in front of the looking glass to perfect that particular accomplishment.

She bobbed a quick curtsy and replied; "Mr Wickham. It is such a fine morning it was impossible to stay indoors for a moment longer than necessary. However, that meant leaving the house on an empty stomach, and I find it is time to return home for breakfast."

"Might I see you back to the house?" he asked pleasantly.

"I would not wish to importune you. It is not far and seemingly in the opposite direction of your intended walk."

"It is no trouble to accompany a lady to her destination, I assure you. One might even dare call it a pleasure."

Armed as she was with new knowledge about his character, Elizabeth was afraid to anger him with too harsh a rejection. She would later reflect on what that meant for her ambivalence about Mr Darcy. She had certainly never been afraid to go too far with him.

"Very well, Mr Wickham. If you are certain it is not too much of an imposition," she answered graciously and quickly turned to head home before he had a chance to offer her an arm she felt obligated to accept.

"I gather you have recently returned from Kent."

"I did. I have been visiting with my dear friend who is recently married to Mr Collins. He holds a living there," she answered, trying not to appear evasive.

"If I remember correctly, I think he mentioned, once or twice, that his patroness is Lady Catherine de Bourgh," he replied with an impish smile.

"Your memory serves you well, sir."

Normally, she would have made some impertinent remark to make him laugh, but regardless of how dearly she wished to pretend nothing was wrong, she couldn't bear to laugh with him while knowing of the darkness that lurked beneath his charming exterior.

"And did you get an opportunity to meet the great lady?" he asked, undeterred by her short answer.

"I did. She is graced with the ability to live up to her reputation, as so few of us are," she answered with a hint of a smile, while studiously avoiding his gaze.

"Unless he has broken with his customary schedule, I gather you had an opportunity to see our mutual acquaintance Mr Darcy again, as well."

He didn't sound as politely disinterested anymore and she felt a blush creep into her cheeks at the unbidden memory of a strong pair of arms enveloping her in the rain.

"Indeed. I understand he usually visits every spring to aid his aunt before heading north for the spring planting."

Too late she realized that her cautious reply still indicated a closer acquaintance than she would like. Daring a look to see if he had caught her mistake could only make matters worse however, and so she stubbornly looked ahead as she subtly increased her pace. She could not get away from this conversation fast enough!

"It sounds as if you might have had plenty of opportunity to learn of his habits since last we spoke. Does Mr Darcy improve upon closer acquaintance?" he asked teasingly.

"I would rather not speak of this with you, Mr Wickham." She tried to sound casual while still forceful.

"We used to speak openly, you and I, Miss Elizabeth. It would be a shame if that came to an end," he persisted.

"Even so, there are some topics that I feel would be better left alone."

She was carefully studying the ground. For once she had a good reason to keep her skirts spotless; it gave her an excuse to ignore her persistent companion. Her mother would be so proud, she thought. She would be less pleased if she discovered that the reason for the uncharacteristically clean petticoats was that Elizabeth had ignored a seemingly eligible gentleman.

She never saw the look of understanding and cold calculation on his face and therefore never stood a chance to defend herself from the sudden blow to the head that followed.


	6. Chapter 6

_**AN:** I am so sorry for leaving you hanging (cliffhanger pun not intended, though appropriate). I've been going through some medical issues in the last few months and as the doctors tried to determine which life-altering, chronic illness I have, it proved difficult to focus on much else._

 _Things seem to have settled down a bit, so even if I am not recovered, I can try to get back to doing some of the things that bring me joy again. Thank you all for sticking with me!_

 _Now - on with the show..._

* * *

.

"If I had loved you less...

I might be able to talk about it more."

.

 **Chapter 6**

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* * *

.

Elizabeth opened her eyes slowly, grateful to find that she was shielded from the sunshine that had bathed countryside that morning. Her head ached and even the little bit of light that managed to filter through the boarded-up window above her hurt her eyes.

She had lied to Wickham when she cited hunger as her reason for returning home when they met, but she found that she was famished. She must have been – asleep? – unconscious? – for quite a while then.

She touched the side of her head gingerly. Her hand came away slightly sticky with blood and even the gentlest of touches sent the pain soaring. Determined to conquer the pain and explore her surroundings, she tried to sit up on the bed she had been deposited on.

As soon as she was sitting upright on the edge of the bed, it became clear that she would not be doing much exploring any time soon. The room started spinning violently and nausea welled up in her. She felt extremely tired and gave her immediate surroundings nothing more than a cursory inspection. The bed was filthy and the table next to it was bare. Not even a glass of water was available to her.

She steeled herself and determined not to be scared, refusing to acknowledge that it was impossible to follow through with that decision. She dearly wanted to make her way over to the door to see if it was locked, however impossible it seemed that it would be left open, but she didn't trust that she could make it across the floor without falling over and possibly injuring herself further.

Deciding to bide her time, she carefully lay back down on the tattered blankets. The movement only seemed to worsen the dizziness and she tried to cradle her head in such a way that the world might settle down again. Her efforts were in vain and she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Maybe, just maybe, she could avoid being sick.

It wasn't long before the tiredness overcame her, and she fell asleep.

.

* * *

.

While Elizabeth slept, afternoon turned into early evening and the residents of Longbourn became increasingly worried. It had taken several hours before Elizabeth was missed, she was after all known for her long walks, but as she failed to appear before Bingley arrived at one in the afternoon, they were certain that something was wrong.

"Charles! Oh, thank goodness you've arrived!" Jane exclaimed as she ran to greet him before he had even fully dismounted his mare.

Though any recently engaged gentleman would rejoice to be greeted so enthusiastically, Bingley sensed that there was more to Jane's excitement than mere impatience to see her fiancé. He had, after all, arrived, exactly as they had agreed the previous afternoon.

"Jane, darling, what is the matter?" Despite his growing concern and curiosity, he still relished the opportunity to speak to her in such a way.

"We cannot find Elizabeth. She did not return from her morning walk and we expected her home hours ago!"

The look of rising despair that stole over her normally stoic and angelic face made Bingley wish for the privacy necessary for a loving embrace. Instead he settled for clutching his fiancé's hands in support. She had only preceded the rest of her family by a few moments, as they all spilled out of the house having heard the sound of an approaching horse.

Mrs Bennet was the first through the door, wailing and moaning as she practically ran down the stairs to meet them.

"Oh Mr Bingley! Thank heavens you have come! Have you heard the dreadful news? My Lizzy has probably fallen down in a ditch somewhere and broken her neck! Oh, my nerves! Such flutterings and spasms, all over me!"

Mr Bennet looked to be in acute pain as his wife thoughtlessly envisioned the worst scenario possible. Thankfully Mrs Bennet was out of breath from her exertions, both before and after the arrival of Mr Bingley and needed a moment to collect herself before she could continue.

In the silence that followed, Bingley surveyed the rest of the family. If Jane's serenity had been disrupted by the events of the day, then the rest of the family seemed equally affected. Though Mrs Bennet was predictably the most vocal about her concerns, however as Mr Bingley would later admit to Jane; it was the worry evident on the normally complacent Mr Bennet that was most disconcerting. Lydia and Kitty stayed close to each other as usual, but the youngest Bennet seemed to understand the severity of the situation and was content to remain in the background for once.

Though Bingley had spoken little more than a few sentences to Mary through the entirety of their acquaintance, he caught her eye now in solidarity. Gone was the pious girl who had no time for such frivolity as socialising. In her place was a scared young woman of 18 that seemed off kilter and uncertain of whom she could turn to for support.

"Are you well, Miss Mary?" he enquired with heartfelt sentiment.

"I thank you, Mr Bingley. I am as well as can be expected, under the circumstances," she replied with a simple, but graceful curtsey.

He then turned to Mr Bennet, who could not fail to notice that the young gentleman had yet to let go of his daughter's hands, and asked; "What has been done to recover her?"

"I have alerted the neighbours that we are looking for her and Mr Hill sent a few of the tenants' boys out to look for her on the most well-known trails. We have yet to hear any news of where she might be found. I was just about to saddle my horse to ride out to Oakham Mount – it is known to be her favourite," Mr Bennet answered.

"How long has your daughter been missing?" he asked.

"You never know with Lizzy!" interjected Mrs Bennet clutching her chest, seemingly to stay her heart-palpitations. "That wilful girl gets up at the break of dawn to go gallivanting about the country without a thought for her poor Mama!"

"That is quite enough, my dear." Mr Bennet did not raise his voice, but there was no doubt that he would brook no argument from her at this point. "Kitty, Lydia – why don't you escort your mother inside to help her rest? A nice calming cup of tea perhaps?"

"Yes, Papa." Kitty seemed grateful to have something to do, something to contribute. Lydia tagged along silently as Kitty took hold of one of her mother's elbows and led her inside.

"When was Elizabeth last seen? Does anyone know?" Bingley asked again, now that he felt certain that he was surrounded by rational minds eager to seek an end to their worries.

"I heard her leave the house at a little after 8 this morning," Jane offered.

"She normally returns within two hours at the most, whenever she goes walking before breakfast," Mary stated. "She gets hungry and would only very occasionally miss breakfast with us, and never without previous – uhm provocation."

"And has there been – has anything happened recently that could make you think she might go for a longer walk than usual today?" he asked as delicately as he could manage.

The three Bennets looked at each other expectantly for a moment to see if anyone had anything of significance to share. As her father and younger sister seemed at a loss, Jane answered; "No, she has been much the same as usual. If there has been an – incident – neither Mama nor Lizzy has shared it with any of us."

Debating for a moment whether or not to go on and break her sister's confidence, she finally decided that Elizabeth's safety was more important.

"She has been a little downcast since Mr Darcy went away so I was not surprised to see her out walking this morning, though I see no reason for her to be gone for so long."

Bingley settled for raising an eyebrow ever so slightly at this new information, though Mr Bennet's slack jaw was harder to overlook.

Giving Jane's hands a comforting squeeze to reassure her that she was right to share this potentially embarrassing information, he turned to Mr Bennet.

"I have received no reports of suspicious persons in the area, though with the presence of the Militia it hardly seems likely that anyone would risk discovery in these parts. Have you heard anything that might give us cause for worry?" he asked.

"No, nothing at all. It has been quiet in the area for the past several years," Mr Bennet confirmed.

"With your permission, I should like to ride out to Oakham Mount myself to look for Miss Elizabeth. Is there more than one trail she is likely to take in that direction?"

"There are two possible routes that I can think of. If we ride out together, we can cover more ground,"

Mr Bennet replied gratefully, before heading over to the stables to have his horse saddled post-haste.

"Oh, Charles! Please be careful!" Jane begged, as her father retreated.

"Of course!" he reassured her. "How are _you_ in all of this?"

"I hardly know. I have this dreadful feeling that there is something terribly wrong. Lizzy would never be gone this long without letting us know where she was going!"

Bingley shot Mary a pleading, apologetic look before silently drawing Jane in for a hug. There was really nothing he could say to help her after all.

"I wonder if you might lend me some paper and a pen? I feel I should write Darcy and let him know. Has Hill returned?"

"No, but I can run the letter in to the village myself if need be." Jane was happy to have something helpful to keep her busy. "Mary, will you accompany me?"

"Of course!" she replied, a little shocked to be included so naturally in the scheme.

Bingley handed her the reigns of his horse with an appreciative nod and almost ran inside to keep up with Jane's quick steps.

"I won't be long," he called over his shoulder, aware of the fact that he would never normally have treated a member of such an esteemed household like a stable boy. Desperate times call for desperate measures indeed.

"Take your time, Mr Bingley," Mary replied graciously.

Mary did not need to wait long. Though Bingley for once took extra care to make sure his letter was perfectly legible, he only jotted down to most crucial information to his friend.

 _Darcy,_

 _Do not worry yourself too much – though I am a poor correspondent and rarely make use of the services of express riders, no one has died._

 _I am, however, sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Miss Elizabeth has failed to return from her morning walk. As I am writing you, she has been missing from her home for the last five hours and no trace of her has yet to be found._

 _Though she may have merely twisted her ankle on her walk home from Oakham Mount, I could not set off searching for her without informing you first._

 _Please make haste, my friend. I feel certain we would all benefit from your presence here, regardless of what has happened._

 _I shall write you at once if there is any change in the situation._

 _At your service,  
_ _Charles Bingley_

Mr Bennet's horse had not been ready long before Bingley emerged, letter in hand. Handing it over to Jane, he made his way over to his own horse to join his future father-in-law in the search. Before he could mount, however, Jane made good use of the relative privacy found behind the mare's large, solid torso. She pulled him closer before reaching up and planting a fleeting kiss on his cheek.

It was a flustered Charles Bingley that a moment later set off in the direction of Oakham Mount, while Jane and Mary set off towards Meryton as quickly as possible.

.

* * *

.

All the ladies at Longbourn had been gathered above an hour before Mr Bennet and Mr Bingley returned. A single look at their countenance was enough to surmise that their search had been fruitless.

"Is there no sign of her?" Jane asked, feeling the despair threaten to take over.

"I am afraid not, my dear." Mr Bennet replied sadly.

"What do we do now?" Kitty asked.

"I do not know. I suppose we wait," he replied as he sank down in the chair closest to the window, seemingly completely drained.

An eerie quiet settled over them that not even Mrs Bennet could muster the will to break. Mary and Jane clutched one of her hands each in comfort as tears spilled silently over their cheeks.


	7. Chapter 7

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"If I had loved you less...

I might be able to talk about it more."

.

 **Chapter 7**

.

* * *

.

Four days after Fitzwilliam Darcy's departure from Hertfordshire, his favourite cousin Richard and younger sister Georgiana were greatly surprised to arrive at Darcy house and find it occupied.

Their meeting was a matter of chance as Richard had merely been escorting their fellow ward to London to stay with his mother, Lady Fitzwilliam. His intention had initially been to escort Georgiana to Matlock so that she might travel with her aunt to London from there, but the lady's departure had been delayed by a full day. As he had not been to London in some time, they agreed to travel on ahead and stay at Darcy house until Lady Matlock could meet them.

Darcy had been working tirelessly for the last few days, trying to resolve some recent issues with his overseas holdings. It had not even occurred to him to write to either of them to inform them of his change of plans. And though he was happy to see them, he felt he hardly had time to acknowledge their presence.

After exclamations of surprise and joy at the unexpected meeting and initial pleasantries, Georgiana went upstairs to refresh herself after a long and dusty journey. After she closed the door to her brother's study with a smile to the two beloved gentlemen she left behind, Richard turned to Darcy with a questioning stare.

"You look dreadful, cousin," he stated bluntly.

"I have not been sleeping very well," Darcy answered. It was the only explanation he was comfortable giving for his admittedly harried appearance.

"Last I heard, you were headed to Hertfordshire with Bingley. Next thing you are in Town, working yourself to an early grave. Did anything happen to give you trouble with Hypnos? (1) Or perhaps it is Morpheus (2) with whom you have quarrelled?"

"Nothing has happened, Richard. I have merely been busy dealing with the aftermath of the unseasonal storm that has all but demolished my overseas holdings."

He sounded suitably exasperated at his cousin's antics, but they both knew he was lying. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire may be responsible for the livelihood and wellbeing of hundreds of tenants, employees and dependants, but it had never been known to cost him sleep. Furthermore, his overseas holdings were insignificant in the grand scheme of things – his fortune was in no danger of being decimated by a hurricane, hundreds and hundreds of miles away.

"Very well. If you would rather not discuss it, I can certainly be equally irritating while discussing any number of other subjects!" he teased good-naturedly.

"I can certainly testify to the truth of your statement, Richard. However, I will have to ask you to display that particular talent at another time as I have none to spare at the moment."

"Very well, but I will have you know that you are no fun at all!" his cousin retorted in an astonishingly accurate imitation of an irate Georgiana before pouring himself a generous drink on his way out the door.

* * *

Darcy had never been so determined to be finished with his duties quickly, nor so easily distracted. Every day since his departure from Hertfordshire had been the same; as he fell into bed each night after a long and exhausting day, his hopes for a good and restful sleep were invariably dashed. Once his mind was free to think about that which he had forced himself to ignore all day, his heart rate would speed up and his body became restless.

Images of Elizabeth haunted him relentlessly, never more so than in the privacy of his chambers. As he tried to ease his troubled mind and fall asleep, the image of her from their last meeting at Longbourn refused to leave him.

What had she been thinking of as she studied the floor so thoroughly? Had she been embarrassed? Worried he might speak out of turn and reveal her delightful transgressions to her family? Had she contemplated what to say to him? Or had she been eager for him to leave her alone? Regardless of the forgiveness she granted him so graciously during their subsequent walk, he could not so easily absolve himself and it was even harder to believe that she could truly pardon his behaviour so quickly.

Nor could he quite believe that her passionate disapproval of him might be remedied during a single rainy afternoon in Kent. He had grown accustomed to her sharp wit and refreshing frankness. It was hard to fathom that the woman whose courage rose with every attempt at intimidation would be too shy to speak her mind if she had indeed had a change of heart.

She had been right to refuse him and to chastise him, however painful the words had been to hear. Unused to honest criticism, her refusal had been a rough awakening to a new world – one in which he was forced to be aware of his own shortcomings and deficiencies.

In his dreams he dared to be more optimistic. His mind conjured her enchanting blushes and hesitant smiles. In the privacy of his dreams her hand had refused to let go of his as he led her to her seat on the fallen tree carefully hidden from view.

She daringly pulled him down to have a seat next to her and squeezed his hand encouragingly. With his heart pounding he raised his gaze to meet hers and encountered emboldening warmth.

"Mr Darcy," she whispered breathlessly as they drifted closer to each other, just like they had that Sunday in Kent, though this time it was desire and not furious passion that pulled them together.

"Won't you call me William? Please, Elizabeth." He savoured the taste of her name.

They leaned closer together, excruciatingly slowly for their lips to meet in a kiss that – never came. He invariably woke up before he could experience the bliss of her kiss again. His pulse would pound in his ears, the sheets twisted and constricting around his aroused body and his heart aching for her. As the days wore on, he felt certain he would give up most, if not all of his fortune, if it meant he would finally hear his name on her sweet lips.

* * *

An urgent knock at the door startled him awake. A glance at the clock on his desk told him that it was still a little too early for supper. Curious he called out for whomever it was to enter. Thomas, his first footman, entered quietly.

"A letter arrived for you, sir. An express rider, I believe it was."

Intrigued, Darcy picked up the missive from the proffered platter and broke the seal. As he started to read, he was surprised to see a far more legible letter from his friend Bingley than he was accustomed to and hardly noticed Thomas leaving and closing the door quietly.

 _Darcy,_

 _Do not worry yourself too much – though I am a poor correspondent and rarely make use of the services of express riders, no one has died._

 _I am, however, sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Miss Elizabeth has failed to return from her morning walk…_

His heart pounded and he found himself incapable of remaining seated. He summoned his butler before he raced through the rest of the letter while pacing the rug in front of his desk.

When he looked up after reading through the letter for a second time, he encountered the worried countenance of his butler, Mr Travis.

"Sir? How may I be of assistance?" he asked.

"I need a horse readied. I must to depart for Hertfordshire as soon as possible."

"Will you not eat something first? It will be rather late by the time you arrive."

"Excellent suggestion. Might you ask Mrs Jenkinson to prepare something I can eat quickly on the road?" Somewhere in the back of his mind Darcy secretly suspected he might have reacted to his butler's kindly meant suggestion differently a few months ago.

"As you wish, Sir. Will there be anything else you require?"

"Kindly inform Miss Darcy and the colonel of my departure. I am sorry to leave so soon after their arrival, but it is unavoidable I'm afraid."

"Right away, Sir," Travis assured him before hurrying off to get everything prepared for his master's sudden departure.

Darcy turned towards the fireplace, desperately trying to calm his rapid breathing and galloping heart.

"Brother? Are you ill?"

His sister's voice startled him out of his reverie.

"No, Georgie. I am perfectly well, but I have just received some distressing news. Bingley has written to inform me that a mutual friend of ours has gone missing. I am just about to set off to Hertfordshire to aid in the search."

"How awful! Which friend is this?" Georgiana gasped.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the younger sister of Bingley's beloved."

"Oh, we must come with you. I insist!" she exclaimed. "I'll let Richard know while you sort out your things."

She turned and rushed out of the room, leaving her dumbfounded brother wondering what had happened to his timid little sister.

There was no question that bringing her along would impede his progress, but, if Richard was able to accompany her, he would not deny her the chance to follow him in her own carriage. If he was perfectly honest, Bingley's letter had left him feeling raw and vulnerable. His little sister and closest cousin would be welcome company, both to himself and quite likely the majority of the Bennet family.

.

* * *

.

As Darcy headed towards Hertfordshire at a punishing pace atop his fastest horse, his exhausted mind strayed dangerously often from focusing on getting himself and his horse safely there. He could not help but torture himself with worry of what might have happened and whether he would ever see Elizabeth again.

Since his disastrous attempt at a proposal, and their subsequent passionate embrace and open-hearted conversation, he had tormented himself repeatedly with remembrances of her reprimand. Today was no different and in between his fears of never being afforded the opportunity to truly make amends, he contemplated his shortcomings.

It was hard to fathom that he had really been so cold and distant as she had claimed. He could not disregard her words, but it was a difficult lesson to learn that the discrepancy between his actions and emotions could be so big.

Her accusation that his behaviour had been ungentlemanly was difficult to resign himself to. Some of her reasoning for this allegation, especially with regards to his conduct towards Wickham, was unfounded. Nevertheless, it was hard to imagine he, or any other man, could ever have behaved less gentlemanly than when he took such liberties with her immediately after.

He was deeply ashamed of his loss of control that afternoon and of his conduct while in Hertfordshire in general. Her angry refusal had opened his eyes to a new outlook on himself and his own standing. Used to insufferable sycophants and mercenary, selfish people who placed his wealth firmly above his worth, he had been deprived of open and honest discourse.

In such a setting, he would be hard pressed to identify and correct his own shortcomings. And seeing as he had never been in love before, this was new and unidentified territory. His customary precautions and mannerisms had failed him spectacularly and he vowed, as every other time his mind went down this path, to do better by Elizabeth.

If only he would have the chance. _Dear God!_ Please let her return home safely!

He frantically urged his horse to speed up, grateful that they didn't have far to go now.

.

* * *

.

As the light faded into night, the frantic beating of horse hooves on the main road from Town, was barely audible in the little abandoned cabin in the woods. Though fairly close to the road, it was hidden from view and the surrounding foliage dampened the sound of passing traffic to and from London.

To Elizabeth's frantically searching senses the sound was still quite heartening. She felt certain she was able to determine which direction the sound was coming from. If only she could escape from this room, she might be able to get away and run towards what must be a road. With a bit of luck the road might be in frequent use and she could ask someone for help and protection.

Touching her head gingerly she contemplated her chances of escaping. Wickham had clearly displayed his lack of compunction to strike a woman. She did not feel certain that his scrupulousness ended there. While it did not bode well for her ability to overpower him, nor her chances for successfully appealing to his better nature, it provided excellent motivation to take a risk if it meant escaping whatever stratagem or nefarious scheme he had planned.

The mere idea of his hands on her skin made her shudder in disgust. No, she would not be allowing him any liberties if she could do anything about it!

Her stomach interrupted her planning with a most unladylike rumbling noise.

The hunger draining her energy and her parched throat was also a determining factor in deciding that whatever she would do, it would have to be soon. She decided to ignore her still woozy head and explore her surroundings for anything that might prove useful. She would much rather attempt to escape while it was dark out, though it would lessen her chances of finding someone to help her once she did.

She got to her feet silently but determinedly and started to feel her way around the small room as methodically as possible. She would show that scoundrel and everyone else that he had made a grave error the day he decided to interfere with Elizabeth Bennet!

.

* * *

 **1** _Hypnos_ : the god of sleep, from Greek Mythology

 **2** _Morpheus_ : the god of dreams, from Greek Mythology


End file.
